The Last Theirin
by Lusacan
Summary: The Archdemon fell some time ago, and Ferelden is ruled in benevolence by King Alistair Theirin and his Queen, Lady Cousland, who are currently expecting their first child.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This will be a precursor to my main story I am working on currently, In Your Heart Shall Burn. It will assist in explaining why the Grey Warden has left in search of a cure for the blight. This will be only a short couple chapters, and will deal with loss and other uncomfortable topics.

As always, I do not own anything Dragon Age related, and this work of fiction is merely that.

* * *

It was all so miraculous. The feeling of movement, pressure and fluttering, making her insides roll and bringing a smile to her face all at once. She rest one hand upon her extended stomach and felt the lurch underneath before feeling a small mound rise and press hard against her palm. To be honest, it was also unnervingly unpleasant; watching her skin twist and swell like an ocean tide was a bit unreal.

 _But,_ Maker, _it was miraculous._

They had said it was impossible, she would be barren, yet within her grew -quite heavily, she may add- the next Theirin. She was a Grey Warden, as was he, and as such suffered from the taint in both their blood. As a fledgling king it was expected, no demanded, of him that he produced a successor to the throne. She had tried to bring up discussion of a concubine to heighten his chances, yet he would have none of it, retiring himself to the belief they would have no heirs rather than betray his vows to the woman he loved. He would have none other, and made it apparent to her that she was all he would need, regardless of her fertility. He made sure to show his devotion to her almost nightly, sometimes mid-day, in the form of heated embraces, breathless kisses, and well… _No one could say it was for a lack of trying._

 _Good thing for you, little one, your father is persistent._ She smirked to herself, rubbing the spot just above her navel which had been most recently offended by the awkwardly placed limb from within.

She was pulled from her musings by a curious voice, "Darling, is everything ok? Are you daydreaming about nugs again?"

A soft chuckle from the nobles gathered around her filled the immediate area. Lifting her eyes to meet those of her adoring husband, she locked on a playful squint and soft grin gracing his lips. Glancing about the room she reacquainted herself with her surroundings. The rush of music and chatter came to her and she looked around the assembly of nobles, noticing several had eyes upon her, as if waiting for an answer to a question lost.

"Oh, I am sorry, dear, I..." She straightened up and placed a smile across her face, "Oswyn, thank you for this lovely party. I would dance more, but alas my poor feet would mutiny against me." She raised the goblet she had been loosely holding in her free hand toasted to the young man. She came closer to her husband to embrace him, to which he returned her grasp lightly. Lifting her chin, she placed her lips against his ear, "I shall excuse myself for the remainder of the assembly, I fear I have had enough merriment for one night."

He pressed his face to hers, a slight purr coming from him as he strengthened his hold on her waist momentarily, eyes pressed closed. "I am sorry, my love, I want to come along, however I can not join you until I have been passed around like one of these meat trays. Speaking of," a quizzical look passed over his face, "have you ever heard of that odd fish paste? I've eaten some questionable Ferelden foods before, but I am sure fish is not supposed to be purple. I will never understand what passes as delicacies for nobility." He pulled slightly away from her to look into the deep pools of her eyes, and adjusted to a more serious tone. "You know, you are more beautiful every time I lay eyes on you." They shared one more kiss before he gently let go of her, placed a kiss on her hand, and returned to the conversation.

The Queen looked to her handmaiden, a brief signal that the woman caught quickly, moving to support her as she made her way from the ballroom to the guest quarters where they had been set to stay the night. Not due for weeks still, her nursemaid and midwife were still at the castle preparing for the new arrival rather than create unnecessary burden during travel. She was still unaccustomed to how heavily they had to travel for the royal caravan after traversing Ferelden with none but her small band of mercenaries for so long. Surely with how heavily they traveled now days they could accommodate one or two more persons. Disregarding her fussiness, the handmaiden assisted her with disrobing, bathing, and getting into bed, which was no easy task in her recent state.

Upon settling in bed some time later, positioned precariously on her side with a down pillow propping her up, she began to drift off. A soft click of the door open gently behind her, and the rumble of the lock shortly after, roused her. Soft steps made their way across the room, the muted thud of garments falling as the steps drew closer. The slow flickering of the fireplace distorting the shadows it cast upon the wall.

Once reaching the bed he fit himself behind her propped on one elbow, forming to her body. Placing a kiss along her exposed shoulder he reached a hand around, ghosting it along her side and hip, coming back up to the roundness of her stomach. He caressed the form, running his hands along her aching skin, littering kisses across her neck and collar as he did so. She let out a soft moan, nestling deeper into the soft blankets of the bed she rest upon. "How are you feeling, darling?" He crooned into her hair, breathing deep in the scent of the wavy locks that flowed around her.

"Hmm, better now the pressure is off my spine. I swear this little one will come out wearing a full set of plate mail," she mumbled into the crook of her elbow which supported her head. His grasp traveled up to her shoulder, one large calloused hand worked in gentle circles pulling the knots from her muscles, first in her shoulders and down the length of her back. Tingles shot down her spine and shivered up her neck, making the hair there prick up. He kneaded her tense muscles for a short time, taking pleasure in her muted sighs of relaxation. He relaxed beside her, wrapping an arm loosely along her shoulders, caressing her lightly.

Her breathing softened shortly after and become slower indicating she had been taken by sleep. He took this small moment, as he had often once she began to show signs of being with child, to be alone with his little one and silently tell them of all the great things he had planned. _She would have the same beautiful chestnut hair as her mother. He would be better with a sword than his father, or maybe he would wield a bow like his mother. He would learn politics from his mother, or she would have her father's sense of humor._ They had no way of knowing who their little one would be, but he knew they would grow to be the best of them both. Soft tendrils of sleep began to wrap itself into his muscles, relaxing him into a state of semi-consciousness, slowly suffocating his awareness with the last thought being of his child and the hopes he had for him or her.

It was unknown how long had passed before he was shaken awake by the strangled scream emanating from the woman next to him.


	2. Chapter 2

Hey there! Sorry for the incredibly long delay! Thank you so much to those that have Favorited this story! Your feedback is amazing, and I appreciate it so much! As I stated in the beginning, this does deal with glaring loss, but all isn't bad, so please bare with the darkness in this chapter. I do not know how long this one will be, probably not too terribly long, but hopefully you like it!

As always I don't own Dragon Age, and it's fiction, and I don't get money from it, yada yada.

* * *

The labor had been long, and it had been tough, but the small fingers curled around her thumb were more than worth it. These hands had cut down men, and ruled a nation. They were twisted and scarred from battle wounds and years of conditioning. They hailed as a stark contrast to the pale, soft, perfect skin of the babe they now cradled more gently than she ever thought possible. His skin was so fragile, as if one swipe of her rough palm would mar it. The soft plump of his lips, the crown of soft blonde hair - much the shade of his father's. His eyes were closed, stealing away their color and refusing to shine their light upon her.

For too long she sat that way, admiring his small form. Within this moment the world had stopped around her and nothing else mattered, not the maids, the healer, or even Alistair. She had been afraid when she first learned of her pregnancy. The first terror came from the thought of the taint and how it seeped into everything, squeezing its inky black fingers into everything. Then came the fear of parenthood. She could stick an arrow in a target's heart from 100 yards, command a battalion of men, and slay a dragon, for Andraste's sake. Hand her a crying babe and she was lost. But this was so natural.

The castle staff had called upon their healer for the labor, and she was currently hovering, which set the new mother on edge. "Come now, Your Majesty, perhaps it is best you sleep. It is much to process, and I need to take the bairn from you. We need to clean and attend to you," The woman made slow, deliberate movements towards her, reaching out to retrieve the bundle from her arms.

It was too simple, her reflexes too honed. She didn't even need to remove her eyes from his face to know the healer was approaching and adeptly deflected her hands. Snapping her head to the side, rising her eyes with a sharp glare to the servant, "you will not take my son from me," she ordered through gritted teeth.

The healer pulled back, retracting from her as if she was a venomous snake about to strike. And for all she was concerned that was exactly what she was. No one would take him away. They tried to at first. They lied, and tried to deny her, but she would not let him go from her sight. Almost as quickly as her attention had been stolen it returned to the soft round face cradled in her lap. As quickly as she had spit her venom her face returned to the gentle smile it had previously bore.

Sensing this was not going to be easy to calm her, or get her to cooperate, the healer moved to the door and caught the attention of the closest guardsmen, doing the only thing she could think of to help. "I need you to retrieve the king, only the king, and as soon as possible." With a single nod the knight turned heel and was off on his search.

* * *

It was not a massive castle, definitely not on any similar scale as the one he resided in back in Denerim. He was sure someone would find him eventually, however, and his current hiding spot - in the back of the larder with a half consumed bottle of whisky - was probably not the best location for when they did. Using the stone wall he forced himself to stand. Using his tired legs he forced himself to walk. The weight he carried was much larger than normal, even for a king, and every movement seemed to press on his bones, grinding them to dust.

He peaked out the door, and when it appeared there were no kitchen staff nearby he slipped out and headed towards the doors for the main hall. Spotting a bucket of water he stopped briefly to cup some of the cold water and splash it upon his face. The chill sharpened his dull senses a little, which he figured was a good thing, though he couldn't see a reason for it to be a plus. He ran his hands over his face again, grinding the palms of his hands into his eyes, digging his blunted nails into his hairline. He hadn't slept through the night, but held hope that somehow the events of the night were all a dream. Beginning to panic, his fingers grasped at the roots of his hair ever harder, only releasing from the shock of someone calling his title.

"Your Majesty," a deep voice called out from beside the doors he had planned to pass through.

Instant realization forced him to stand straight up and address the guard. "Captain, what is it?"

"The healer attending the Queen, sir, has requested your presence. States it is urgent, you only." His eyes fixed somewhere above Alistair's head, probably to prevent from seeing his King in a distraught state. Providing some medium of decorum and respect for his leader.

Alistair sighed, dropping his eyes, arms, and stomach to the dusty floor. It was cowardly. His wife had gone into labor, and he had tried to stay with her, but he was told it was improper, against tradition. That as the father he was to spend time at the pub, or drinking with the other men. She didn't want him to go, but to be honest he was terrified and listened to them. He had heard news since the delivery, but had been too nervous to visit. Perhaps it was his fault, and if he'd been there, just stayed with her, it would have been different. Easier. Better.

He sucked in a sharp breath and nodded at the Captain. With a stiff nod in reply the guard turned on his heel and led the King back to the royal quarters at a rapid pace. Once they got to the door he nodded once more, turned, and left the King alone. Alistair's feet felt as if they were made of led and required everything he had to move from the hall to the doorway. He fought with the idea of if he should knock or not, but figured it wasn't important - the healer was expecting him anyway.

The large wooden door seemed to now loom in front of him, pulling him in and crushing him under its weight. The knob twisted as it had the night before, but this time it seemed as if the mechanism was rusted, or a force held it tight from the other side, making it achingly difficult to turn. Upon his entrance he saw there were linens on the floor leading from the sitting room to the bedchamber, as if they were dropped by someone in a rush, and forgotten in the haste. As he got closer he noticed some of them had blood on them, a sign of the bloody battle his wife had waged in the wee hours of the morning. All he could do was pray to Andraste and the Maker that she came out victorious. An overturned wash basin, paired with a small puddle greeted him next on his path to the main chamber.

Finally the healer noticed his entrance and hurried over to him, catching him before he came fully into the bedchamber. She caught his elbow, forgetting formalities in the intimacy of the situation.

"Sir, she is inconsolable. She will not let me near him or her own person. I need to tend to her."

She spoke as calm and clear as she could but he couldn't make out most of what she said. His head swam with the vision the room painted of the night before. "But - there's so much blood…" he was confused. It made no sense.

Her grip tightened on his elbow, and when he moved his eyes to meet hers the gaze she offered was hard as steel. "I need you to help me. I need to tend to her." She needed him to understand her. She needed his help.

Finally he nodded.

"Sir, this will not be easy. Your son is with her - " she began to explain when he suddenly snapped from his haze and seemed to focus.

"You left him with her?" He gave her a hard look.

"Well, yes, mi'lord. She won't let anyone near and I am not about to test myself against her. I know what she can do. Newborn or no."

He pulled his arm from her grasp and moved forward into the room where his wife rested.

For what he had told himself, he was not ready for what he saw. She sat up, knees gathered together before her with her head bent over her lap. Words dripped from her lips but he could not catch them. Several steps closer brought him into her view.

"Alistair," she breathed, lifting her head to meet his gaze. A smile crept across her face. "Come meet your son, Alistair."

With all intended hesitation his feet worked on their own and brought him to the side of the bed faster than he would have liked. She moved her body so that he may also see the boy cradled within her lap. Unsure of what to do with himself, he moved to sit on the edge of the bed beside her, and once his eyes caught the sight of his son he could not remove them.

The child was painfully beautiful. Adorable round cheeks, with soft skin and a halo of golden hair similar to his own. He looked so peaceful, eyes closed, and cradled within his mother's arms. A hand reached out to touch the child before he knew what he was doing and as soon as he made contact he instantly regretted it.

The pale soft skin was cool to the touch. The deep blush to his lips was unnatural, and his eyes were destined to never open. The child would remain forever silent and still.

Alistair had avoided this room for this very reason, and this was his fault. He had left his wife, his beautiful warrior queen, to face this war alone, and she lost a piece of herself when she lost the battle through the night. Peeling his eyes from the child's face he was greeted with her beaming eyes and warm smile.

"Isn't he the most beautiful thing you have ever seen?" He could hear the glee in her voice, the pride swell in her heart as his own broke. She wasn't aware, or wouldn't admit it to herself that the boy was gone. If he didn't stop this she would be gone as well.

"Darling" he called, his voice lost and broken. His voice did not break her concentration on the child, and he had to try again, this time louder and with slightly less ache in his voice.

Finally she looked to him, light confusion gracing her brow.

"Dearest," he swallowed hard. "Love, the boy is gone." He could think of nothing else to say.

The confusion on her face deepened, "What do you mean? He is right here is he not?" she laughed lightly at his silly statement.

"Yes, his body is here, but" he put a hand on her shoulder, "darling, the Maker has taken him."

The confusion turned to indignation and her face turned to a scowl. "Stop lying to me! The healer tried to tell me the same lies, but I see him, he is here, he is only sleeping!" She shimmied her body away from him as best she could while still clutching the bundle.

Alistair could do nothing but watch as his wife, the woman he would do anything for, fell to pieces.

"He will wake up, Alistair! He will!" the anger in her voice cracked and the sorrow that floated below began to rise up to the surface. "Please, Alistair, tell me he will wake up!" She began to rock lightly, clutching the babe to her chest.

A strong, calloused hand reached out and wrapped around her shoulders. He pulled her into him and after a moment of resistance she caved into his embrace. He pressed a kiss to her temple and whispered in her ear, begging her to let the boy go. She sobbed harder, and after a moment moved to release the small frame from her grasp.

Sensing her movement he sought out the healer and when they locked eyes she deftly came to the side of the bed. It took Alistair a far amount of reassurance to convince the Queen to release the boy as she handed him over to the woman.

When the body was finally clear she collapsed into his arms, the full weight of the loss bearing down upon her. She was suffocating in it. The world seemed to twist and tilt on it's side and she grasped him harder, pulling herself into his chest. She breathed harder, and faster, chasing the breath she couldn't seem to catch.

"Love?" Alistair called out to her, but it was muddled, replaced with a deafening echo of the blood rushing within her own ears. If her eyes had been open she would have had trouble seeing through the cloud.

"Healer! There's a lot of blood here beneath her! Is that normal?"

She could tell Alistair was frantic, but she couldn't seem to find a reason why that would be of concern to her. She wanted to tell him it was ok, and to calm his nerves, but she couldn't seem to get the words out.

"No - we need a mage - "

She could hear the broken speech, faded in and out. Footsteps that were receding.

"Stay with - no, please -" She just wanted him to relax, it was ok, and she was very relaxed. She couldn't remember a reason to be upset.

Suddenly he wasn't there anymore - the hard chest she had been pressed against was pulled away and new hands were on her, picking her up, and then she was gone.

* * *

He watched as the guard pulled her from the bed and rushed her from the room. He demanded to follow this time. How foolish he had been to abandon her the first time, now they would not let him follow her to the mage. Three guards kept him in the room, now empty save for himself and the nurse that had been with them.

"Sir, you will need to stay away. You are distraught and will be of no assistance when the mage sees her. We will let you know when she can be seen again. We have the best mage healers in the area." The same Captain that had met with him earlier spoke to him now. This time meeting his gaze, he meant business.

Alistair grumbled, but acquiesced and turned away, raking a hand through his hair. The error was discovered when the set eyes upon the bed she had been laying on. What had been warm and comfortable the night before now had a large space covered in deep red blood. To think it was here rather than keeping her heart beating was painful. This day could get no worse. He had lost his child at birth, and now maybe the love of his life as well.

Swift steps took him to the nearest wall and he slammed his fist into it. _This could not be happening._ Two more heavy slams before it felt like he broke something in his hand and the sharp pain shook down his arm. A deep roar bellowed from his chest at the electric shock in his arm.

The last thing he expected happened.

A small cry. Fussing that gradually grew louder sounded from the other side of the wall, in the dressing area. First expectations were that he had effectively lost his mind and was imagining it, so he ignored it, but the healer moved towards the noise.

"Follow me, sir, I have something to show you. I believe this may help your situation some."

Realizing he couldn't be imagining the noise he followed her. She walked to a small cradle and picked up a small swaddled figure. His expectation returned to the thought that he had lost his mind. Potentially imagining that his deceased son was making noises, but the nurse walked towards him with the small being. She was deliberate, and she intended to make him hold what was in her arms.

Instinctively he reached out and grasped the bundle of cloth. Inside was a small child. Similar to the one that his wife had been holding previously, but not the same. This babe had a more full head of darker hair, and full greenish-hazel eyes that looked to be a mirror image of his own.

He looked to the healer in confusion. Was she trying to replace the dead child with this new one? How sick could she be? He would never allow it. His Queen would never allow it - if she survives, he reminded himself.

"What is the meaning of this?" He asked, potentially more harsh than intended, but if it turned out she was presenting what he thought then it was not harsh enough.

"The meaning, sir?" She asked but was responded to with just a hard look.

"Do you intend to replace my child? Is this just a back up? Who did you steal this child from?" He accused.

A scoff came from the woman's lips. "I stole the child from no one, mi'lord. I simply handed the bairn to it's father."

"I will not pretend to be the father to a stranger's child." He attempted to hand the child back to the healer.

She held her hands out in front of herself to stop him, "You are the father, sir. The Queen carried two, did nobody tell you?"

He stopped in his tracks and took a second look at the child. The hair did resemble his wife's. The eyes, inquisitive, silent, studying, did look like his own. He wanted to kick himself even harder for missing the birth. It must have been so very hard.

"She was born first, mi'lord, though I guess that matters none. Her Majesty wished to name her Eleanor. For her mother. Of course you get to make the choice, but it was just something I hears her say."

A small, painful smile crossed his face. "Eleanor is perfect," he said to her.

"You are perfect," he whispered to his daughter. "Right?" he looked to the healer to confirm, and his smile widened when she nodded her head in agreement.

Returning his attention to the small bundle, he cooed "now we just need to get mommy better."

"Healer?" He called out.

"Name's Maggs, sir"

"Maggs," he corrected, "will you please check on my wife and let me know as soon as I can visit, or we know what is happening?"

"Aye, sir." She turned and removed herself from the room, leaving the new father with the only remaining member of his family that wasn't walking the line between Thedas and the Fade.


End file.
